Three Fools Walked Into Gotham
by Princess Badass
Summary: All in all, it just sounded like a bad joke.


**Jinx: Okay, this is my commission to my friend Becky who has done everything but put a gun to my head for me to write this and I hate her for it. I have never wrote a Batman fanfiction and never planned to but here it is in all of it's glory; I was also given the challenge to complete a set of requirements for this.**

**- Focused on the Jokers activities during the third movie.  
-OC a a main character.  
-Spanning over more than one day.  
-Has some romance in it, but not conventional  
-Batman and Bane mentioned but not overpowering factors.**

**Let's get this show on the road- Disclaiming. **

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There are just some people that you can look at and the madness is there.

It's dark in their eyes and constant, like the current of a river. It's always flowing and when it stills then it becomes restless- eventually the dam will break. His dam had a very low capacity, in fact he would say that it was non existent and there was simply a constant high pressure jet of water. His eyes followed the clock and his tongue darted to swipe against the scars upon his cheeks, eyes simply following the hands of the clock. His hands clasped on his knees in the mocking posture of readiness, ready to leave? Please, he had another fourteen and a half life sentences to carry out.

You think they'd just let him walk out?

Well, if he asked nicely.

His hair was gone, the cropped cut close to his skull but he was sure that it would grow in a good month- time which he'd have if he was right _this_ time. It was only once that he was wrong and it wasn't the best feeling. Seeing the sight of in tact ships was very disappointing- no pretty reds and oranges to light up his life. He grumbled under his breath to himself, the constant reminder of his one mistake was hard to ignore and they didn't let him forget it either.

But he'd have the last laugh, he always did.

Because some people were just so damn predictable, like Batman would always rise again, how Gotham would always have scum on the bottom of their shoes, and he would always do what he wants. Now, this was where he was different though because nobody knew _why_ he did it, nobody knew _what_ he was going to do next. That was the beauty of it, improvisation and a bit of chaos. It was like a party but the only one having fun was him and that was how it was going to stay.

So he'd bide his time and stare at the clock with madness in his eyes, watching as his seconds melted away and Bane rose into power rapidly. It would only be a matter of time before the prison was empty and he'd be given full run of the place.

Oh he had a few ideas of his own.

Quite a few.

So he watched the clock for another hour and by now other inmates have become restless as well, the inmates which knew something that is. The insiders were never able to hold their poker face all that well and their tell tale fidgets were putting the guards on edge. It was times like this that he wished that Gotham had a little more to offer than the few criminals that could stand up with their head high. Not the petty thieves with little to no creativity and monotonous activities.

And then the shutters to the cells creaked open and his grin wormed it's way upon his torn cheeks.

Bane had stood up and done his speech, or rather what would have been Commisioner Gordon's if the man had any balls. It was beautiful to see the chaos as the men of the prison shouted, screamed for their denied parole. The chaos was loud and proud, the guards were scurrying away because it was inevitable that the prison would give way. His grin grew and grew, standing up and walking slowly to the prison door. His face pressed between the bars as he stared out onto the hallway.

The Bat was probably tossing and turning in his supposed grave, supposed was right though because Joker doubted that anything could kill him. Just like a cockroach, it just doesn't _die_. And the shutters to the cells eventually opened fully- there was a blur of orange as all prisoners fled from their confines.

He didn't move though.

He needed a base to work from, didn't he?

Plus he needed a good shower. Then every thing would be kick-started, he was on a busy, busy schedule here- no time for dilly dallying. So when the place had been drained of life, both Guards and Prisoners, he casually stepped out of his temporary cell. What? You think they'd leave him with that kind of advantage for long? No, no, no, after being sentenced he was jailed in a padded room which he escaped out of in the first ten months. From then on, they bounced him from cell to cell with different schematics. It was a load of fun, like a rubix cube.

His footsteps echoed as he walked through the aisle between the cells, his feet smearing a bit of blood here and there, hopscotching over Guards corpses with a maniacal giggle. His hands slapping together and his clammy palms grinding against one another as he thought his plan through once again. It was pretty insane, he wasn't insane, he was perfectly sane.

"Now lets see what we've got here.." Joker mumbled under his breath, heading towards the weapon cache which was no doubt in the Guard station. Preparation for a breakout and all that. Much good it did the dumbfucks. He slowly tread towards the station only to pause and grimace as he passed a two way glass, the kind which shows your reflection. Without his greasepaint, his scars on display for all to see and he missed the heaviness of his layers of make up. He didn't need a ridiculous cowl like Batboy, take of the make up with a little wipe and no one knew who he was.

Eyes on the prize Joker.

He snorted to himself and turned back to his destination, kicking the door open and stepping over the corpse of the pretty blonde psychologist that came into his cells every Tuesday, Wednesday and Sunday's. Shame, she was so close to snapping too.

"Sorry." He apologized to the corpse with a grin upon his cheeks, chuckling at his own macabre humour. "Lets see what we got hereeee..."

Not a bad haul, a shotgun, his old knife, a pen from the desks (_magic!_) and a few smoke-bombs and grenades. With the bits of wire that he could get from the piano in the staff-room on the third floor he could set up some pretty spectacular traps which would sustain him until he got his workforce back into business. Clucking his tongue, he hustled his bustle from the tiny station and was nearly and orange blur as he made his way to the prison doors. Setting about to start his talents, no doubt he'd get paid for it later on. Hooking wire to grenade, making sure no stone was unturned he set about to make his fortress.

"_I gotta plan to get on their nerves, to get on their nerves, maybe severe their nerves. I gotta plan to get on his nerves, all throughout Gotham~!" _He sang to himself softly, his voice pitchy and the laugh at the end could make hair stand on their ends.

Now all he had to do was find himself a suit.

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**Jinx: Okay this is a very short prologue but the next chapter will be longer so I'm very sorry and hope you will forgive me, Becky you better be pleased with this because I hate it to it's very core. Reviews would be nice.**


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